Real Life According to Emma

Wednesday, 17 June 2015

On 11th June 2011 I started to blog on this site. Since then some 417 posts have appeared. Much has changed in that time. The blog was once the essential flagship of the wannabe blockbuster author like me. Now it is a diminished form in the jingle jangle jumble of competing media voices. People are at full stretch just trying to sell their own deal or ducking out of infinite sales pitches.

For all that, it's been a great experience and pleasure to be on here. Over the past year my stats have been completely meaningless on account of Russian Spambots hitting the site multi-thousands of times. Thanks to everyone who has read and/or commented on my blog. I'm gonna carry on via Wordpress to see if there is a genuine audience out there. You can find me here .

Monday, 25 May 2015

I do not struggle with my weight. My weight struggles with me and owing to its superior artillery of temptation, I don't resist. Until now! I have joined the underground resistance. I'm working by sabotage and secrecy - so much so that I've not even told myself I'm dieting. In that way if I'm captured and tortured by the Guessmyweightstapo with a chocolate eclair I will not give myself away. I'll just eat it so as not to betray my secret plan.So, I'm on a pleasure based diet. This means long country walks, poetic contemplation and writing 'Passion Patrol 3' in my head.

Oh Cinders - I shall go to the ball at the Hall when I can get into my dress

Today my route took me to the grounds of Broadlands House in Hampshire England. This is the stately home of Lord Romsey who inherited when Lord Mountbatten (cousin of the Queen and uncle of the Duke of Edinburgh) was assassinated during the Irish troubles. Prince Charles went to the scene a few days ago. I'm not a royalist groupie but I like the guy. He's been in trouble for writing to ministers about providing better kit for the poor old squaddies who fight for us. Well - Good on ya mate. If they don't like it ride down to parliament and close'em down.

My path to bodily perfection and infinity

My new royal protection squad heroine was feeling the surge and pulse of life in her inner core longing for release as she took in the view through my eyes this afternoon. Well - maybe it was me rumbling.....but I'm pretty sure the earth moved.

So here I am on my long and winding road to health and fitness. Have you ever been on a secret diet? What tips would you share to keep me on track?​Emma Thinx: The straight and narrow only works if the Earth is flat

Monday, 11 May 2015

In our house we’re celebrating the
recovery of a favorite ‘pet’ - a wise old crow who’s been coming
to our garden for years. Just as the dog in "Alf The Workshop Dog" is a real mutt, ‘The Crow of the World’ from the same story is also based on my
real-life bird friend. We call him ‘Hook Beak’ - for reasons you
can guess from his photo.

He’s the cleverest and bravest of
the crows, always first to come down when we throw out food. He
swaggers up, looks right in at the window with his beady eyes and
squarks at us when he’s hungry. If food is too dry – he takes it
to a bowl of water and sits for a few minutes whilst it soaks and
softens. If there’s any left over, he hides it for later –
digging little holes in the grass and covering with leaves or
moss.

Recently he showed up with a wounded leg, hardly able to walk. The other crows
were pecking at him, keeping him away from food. He
became increasingly bedraggled and we were worried he wouldn’t
survive, especially with the constant bullying. We knew he was braver and more confident than most of his oppressors. We guessed he would approach closer than the others if we stayed in the garden to frighten them away. We made
up some pasta (his favorite!) mixed with tinned dog meat. Sure
enough he flapped down to feed while we stood guard. The bullies just squawked and postured at a distance. His courage and intelligence got him his three meals a day in peace. This weekend he’s looking glossy and sleek. His limp has more or
less gone and he can once more hold his own in the pecking order.
He’s also very busy delivering food to a nest in a nearby oak tree
– we think he may soon be teaching a young apprentice all his
tricks!

The Great Crow Of The World is a major character in my kid's book Alf The Workshop Dog which has been doing great and has reached #1 Bestseller in Time Travel, Pets, and Chapter Books in USA, UK and Canada. To celebrate, the second book in the series Isabella's Pink Bicycle is going free 12-13-14 May. Come along and meet another animal - that cool pole cat for a tight spot - Frankie Ferret. Who needs a Fairy Godmother when you've got a Ferret Godfather?

Saturday, 2 May 2015

I'm using my blog today to proclaim the new cover for an excellent novel The Wind Weepsby Anneli Purchase. I reviewed this story when it was first published. It is a dramatic read with a sexually sophisticated ambiance. To my eyes, the repackage is fantastic.

A novel as emotionally charged as this one needs a cover to reflect its contrasts and nuances. When fear and desperation threaten to sweep aside all gentleness and consideration the cover has a job of work to do. The new design conveys every element of this beautifully written story and for sure proclaims its worth.

The brutal truth of Nature displays itself along the lonely coast as much as it does through the lives of handsome men and beautiful women. Set in the commercial fishing world of British Columbia, the depth of the story offers a range of choice for a cover. Anneli's designer, Anita B. Carroll of http://race-point.com created a design that embodies the passion and emotion that simmer even within the cruel unforgiving sea.Remember the terror Julia Roberts felt in the movie Sleeping with the Enemy? That’s the kind of terror Andrea feels about her husband, Robert. But, in her case it isn’t so easy to escape him. He has taken her to live in a remote cabin on the coast, cut off from all communication.Andrea once loved orchids, but Robert has transmuted them into a symbol of his control over her. The orchid on the cover seems to be weeping. The blood red sky, the bleak churning sea add their abstract shadows. And yet Andrea is determined to survive and get back to the man she wishes she had married, the one who has never stopped loving her.For more than just a romance, why not click on the link to download The Wind Weeps. You won’t sleep until you finish it....

My Review of The Wind Weeps:

FIVE STARS: A really good story! We don't always make the right choices. We always think we can change people but human nature is very complex. Set in an unforgiving landscape of fittest survival, the human is a fragile and troubled creature. This is a book where the writer clearly knows that small mistakes can hook you in the mouth like a salmon on a merciless steel line. The water is cold for any warm blooded stranger who falls in the struggle. Yet this is the true life for these characters on the fishing grounds of the North. No ice can freeze the heat of desire and no innocence of springtime can un-cry the tears of youthful regret. Set in an awesome savage beauty, the human spirit goes on through real and imagined kisses and wine to find a wider perspective. We are free because love imprisons us. I adored this book for its exploration of this dilemma set in the real lives of real folk. No highfalutin literati posturing but a hand on the winch, a knife in the hand and a pulse in the flesh mix in this story. The style is straightforward without gratuitous flourishes - a bit like ice and a loving kiss. A sexually sophisticated and tension packed story. A good good read!

AUTHOR BIO

Anneli Purchase is an author and freelance copy-editor. She writes for the Loveahappyending Lifestyle Magazine, which she also helps to edit. Anneli lives on her little acre of paradise on Vancouver Island with her husband and two spaniels. She has published three novels and is working on her fourth.

Friday, 1 May 2015

What beauty there is in the Springtime. Who could be blind to its joy? Who cannot know in their own heart the joy this beauty brings to others be they rich or poor? Who would SHIT in the face of innocence andloveliness? Who would SHIT in the face of our communities?

Fly tippers - that's who! These creatures are a curse in both urban and rural areas. Generally they are "contractors" who offer to clear rubbish. Instead of registering their business and joining in the community need for recycling, they dump the trash anywhere. Needless to say these barbarians avoid legitimate disposal fees although they charge their clients for them. Nowhere is safe. They are utter low-lifes with no care for their fellow man.

Close to the church of St Margaret's church in Wellow, a small Hampshire village (famous as the burial place of Florence Nightingale) I chanced upon a rare outrage of fly tipping. It's not often you wander along a country lane and find yourself confronted with a speedboat. Yes - a speedboat filled with bags of rubbish. Nearby there is a fridge and some other debris from a previous incident. Someone must be able to recognise this boat.

Shipping lane

Being a writer I do get the chance to express my own views through characters. In Passion Patrol 2 WPC Shannon Aguerri confronts a band of fly tippers. Things turn ugly and there is violence. In researching the book I spoke to officers who had dealt with this kind of incident in real life. The fiction in the book is no exaggeration. I know this is just a futile rant and I doubt fly-tippers read my blog. Let me know your thoughts and maybe you will recognise this boat. If you do let me know and this passion patrol girl will get on the case.Emma Thinx: You can't fly-tip your conscience.

Wednesday, 29 April 2015

Lucky I had a camera because when I got home I couldn't believe what I'd seen

The house - a noble perspective of lawn

Exbury Gardens is a visitor attraction set in the New Forest of Hampshire UK. The grounds run down to the Beaulieu River. Wild ponies wander the roads as you approach. The Isle of Wight and the Solent are visible as you wander along the river path. I had the fortune to go there yesterday. It's a job to write about the placewithout sounding like an OTT tourist brochure. It is just SO beautiful that really you just have to see the photos. The beauty has a quality of unreality which I suppose is to be expected in a created garden. I wish I knew more about plants. Certainly there are

From the dressing room palette of Madame Butterfly

azaleas and rhododendrons. I also spotted some king cups which have always been a favourite with me. They seem to cry out the joy of the sun and lush meadow land with their open faces. I had not seen any for years and suddenly I spotted them. My mind raced back decades to a John Clare poem.

Green lush and beaming out vibrant joy

A Bank Holiday weekend lies ahead. If you get the chance give yourself a real overdose of beauty and get down to Exbury. Be sure to take your camera. My final shot is a close up of a Rhododendron. To me it represents an abstraction beyond reality. Maybe this is the way we are supposed to see things - as if everything is something more than itself. I guess this is what great gardeners seek to achieve - a transcendence beyond the truth of itself - a fiction of beauty - like a once dreamed kiss that suddenly is on your living lips.

Thursday, 23 April 2015

So begins the famous poem Home Thoughts, From Abroad by Robert Browning, written in 1845 when he was feeling homesick in Italy. It is a lovely poem and I have always taken pleasure from poems of Nature. One of the few "arty" things I learned at school was the poem "Daffodils"by William Wordsworth. In later life as a wannabee poet I discovered the words of John Clare and wept with frustration at my dullness. These days what poetry I have I secrete in my novels like a pinch of mono-sodium glutamate among the stir fried bean sprouts of new love. (Guess what I've been cooking for dinner?)

It was a release to get away from the office and go to the Bluebell woods at Mottisfont in Hampshire. I took my camera and tried to capture the crushing fragility of suchbeauty. All I could think of was the poem by Oscar Sparrow entitled simply "Bluebells". So much of our longing as humans comes down to a need to hold on and endure. Humble flowers with their immense beauty and perfume fade before our eyes and we cannot hold them any more than we can hold ourselves on the shingle shores of Time. And yet in poetry we can pass on a few moments that in the act itself of sharing, flower over and over as seeds, roll over and over as waves, kiss over and over as innocent lovers: as if no bloom before had offered such beauty or no lips before had ever known the joy of the kiss.

These were my feelings when I first read Oscar Sparrow's poem. Putting away all the bawdy splash and dash of selling the stuff and beating the drum which is a novelist's/publisher's life, I was in those woods - trying to hold back Time, trying to breathe in the blue.